


(Septic Stories) Dad Bod

by EsculentEvil



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Chase-centric, Check Each Chapter for Warnings or Cautions!, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23552707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsculentEvil/pseuds/EsculentEvil
Summary: Chase being selfconcious about his slightly round stomach... And how the Septic's react to it.Written for Chase's birthday!
Relationships: Septic Family - Relationship, Supportive Septics
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. Heroic Physique

**Author's Note:**

> This idea actually came to me after watching both Sean and MatPat talk about gaining weight and no longer having the time to maintain the physique they had and were proud of/happy with. Matthew actually calls it a dad bod and that got me thinking about Chase Brody.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Chase makes it clear that he feels inferior due to Jackie’s physique, Jackie feels a bit guilty; then, he shares his own secret and they grow closer because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild cursing; it's accented (cuz, you know, Irish) but still.

It’s late when Jackie finally gets home.

Usually, he’s back around 4am (Although: it used to be 3 back in quieter Ireland). Today, however, he stumbles through the door around 6, tired and groggy.

He’s so ready for bed.

Fresh out of bed, however, is Chase; and he’s horrifically pre-coffee.

* * *

They greet each other sleepily in the kitchen.

Jackie always tries to down something healthy and shower before going to bed. It helps prevent Henrik from turning into a syringe spitting hurricane on him.

As the hero whips up a veggie smoothie for himself, Chase sips his fresh coffee.

And he watches Jackie.

* * *

The Super doesn’t notice at first.

He’s too busy measuring, cutting, and blendering. But, eventually, Chase’s eyes bore into him long and heavy enough for the gazing to be recognized.

Jackie doesn’t comment on it; initially.

By the time he’s halfway through his smoothie, however, and it’s still happening, the hero asks, “Is t’ere somet’ing on me face?”

* * *

Chase almost leaps into the air with how hard he jerks back into awareness.

His face goes red and he ducks his head, tipping his cap’s brim lower, “Sorry...”

Jackie smiles and sets his drink down, “Hey, it’s ok... If ye needa talk, I’m ‘ere.”

Surprisingly, the dad accepts the offer.

* * *

“I just... Uh’m fat.”

Jackie blinks. He stares at the capped Septic critically, then, shakes his head, “What? No ye ain’t! Yer perfectly healthy! Even **Henrik** t’inks so!”

Chase shrinks, “... _Healthy_ doesn’t have a belly.”

The hero pauses at this. He stares harder at the father, squinting at his stomach, and finally sees what he means. Pudge: that soft roundness at Chase’s waist. Jackie frowns, heart hurting for the man, “T’ere’s not’in’ wrong wit’ a belly.”

“ **Ye** don’t have one.”

The Super winces at the venom in Chase’s voice. He knows it’s not direct at him, not **really** ; but it’s still jarring and alarming: the gamer seems jealous of Jackie; and, if that’s true, the hero won’t be able to comfort/help him: what a nightmare.

So, Jackie finds them some common ground:

“I don’t; at least, not a soft one. And ye know what? I’d love ta have one!” The Super smiles softly and hopefully, “I envy t’at softness, Chase. Truly. I save people all t’e time and they **fear** me. These muscles you want so much?” He gestures at his abdomen, “T’ey’re **hard**. Sometimes: **too** hard. Bein’ buff and bulky like t’is makes me unapproachable, man; and, sometimes, t’at costs lives: I have ta try so hard fer kids ta like me; many o’ t’em are afraid o’ me and t’ink t’at I’ll hurt t’em. Even **I** worry t’at now!”

Chase stares at the hero in amazement, clutching his cold coffee.

Jackie smiles, happy they’ve bridged the gap that’d been forming between them, “T’at’s why, if I could, I’d give ye t’ese abs in exchange fer yer soft belly any day.”

* * *

~Epilogue~

“T’e fook ar’ ya doin’?”

Chase looks up briefly to lock gazes with the Septic House’s resident Glitch. Multicolored eyes gaze back at him in confusion, volleying between the father and the heavyset hero apparently passed out to oblivion on the father’s pudgy belly.

The soft man only smiles.

“Finding security.”


	2. Antibodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since Anti was the one to catch them on the couch and get the answer “Finding security” of all things, the Glitch silently wonders if Chase is in trouble or being threatened by somebody; so of course his response is to threaten Chase xD And corner him the next day until he spills his guts… over how much he still hates his guts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING FOR IMPLIED GORE!**  
>  Anti's just a little daemon, after all.
> 
> Also: WARNING FOR IMPLIED COMA!Seán
> 
> And, lastly: refences to an OC of mine (at least, I don't think he's real) named Oswald "Ozzie" Patrick, son of MadPat and evil counter to MatPat's son, Ollie.

_“Finding Security.”_

That had been Chase’s answer to Anti’s question about why the fizz he was lying under a passed out hero while they were cuddling on the Septic couch.

It hadn’t made any sense to him then and it still doesn’t now.

What in Hel could Chase be so afraid of that a useless sleeping Jackie could actually make him feel better—never mind at all secure?

* * *

Anti’s initial answer had been Darkiplier.

That gray pest, with his Heist child and Annus brat, had become unruly lately; and Anti could easily see him acting out against their deal by targeting Chase.

It’s an easy thing to do, after all.

But, no; Dark hadn’t been the culprit: he’d spent the entire sonic feed bemoaning fatherhood and complaining about how much of a terror Heist and Annus are; apparently, he’s just been too busy with them to bother tormenting anyone else.

* * *

A new threat was Anti’s next answer: a new Evil Ego.

But a quick check around told him that the only new Evil was Oswald Patrick: Oliver Patrick’s evil counterpart—nicknamed Ozzie—and the child of MadPat.

There’s no way THAT is scaring Chase.

He’d probably like Ozzie—provided he could get over the kid being a daemon.

* * *

Next on the chopping block was a more human assailant.

Something along the lines of a mugger, probably: Chase is so soft and... squish. Obviously, Anti’s no good here—literally—so he pestered Jackie about it.

While the idiot was out doing his rounds, Anti pounced on him (and if he had fun clawing, biting, and roughing him up, that’s his business, thank you very much!).

He tried to get answers from the bubbly hero to no avail: Chase had been good and stayed home long before the quarantine had even hit; he didn’t get mugged.

* * *

And that’s when it hit him: the quarantine!

As a virus, himself, Anti knows a thing or two about how they affect humans; so, of course, that must be it: the virus ravaging the world is scaring Chase real bad!

But that’s not it either: Chase proved that when he live-streamed for 11 and a half fizzing hours while posing as Seán for a global charity combating it.

There’s no way he can be afraid enough to hide under stupid Jackie one day and then completely get over that fear enough to fight the next day; right?

[Humans are so weird.]

* * *

Frustrated, fed-up, and floundering, Anti finally corners Chase one morning.

The fatherly Ego is sipping pipping hot coffee in the kitchen when he does this. Soft, cloud blue eyes glance up and lock with Anti’s multicolored, daemonic few before Chase is paling and backing up and cowering pathetically by the fridge.

The Glitch scowls at him.

“T’e fook are ye so afraid uf?”

* * *

In retrospect, that was probably the most ironic thing Anti could ever ask him; or anyone, really: HE is the resident Boogeyman, after all.

At the time, however, it was just a question about that moment on the couch.

Not that Chase knew.

“Y-you?”

* * *

Anti growls angrily with one voice and groans tiredly with another.

It’s moments like this that make him hate the way his binaural (Or is it bivocal?) audio literally projects ALL his moods and feelings, not just what he WANTS. “No, stoopid; Ah meant t’e oth’r day when ye were hidin’ under Jackie like a bit.”

Chase stares.

Anti glares.

* * *

“... I... wasn’t **hidin** ’, Anti...”

Chase’s words are careful, cautious, and critical. Anti squints at him, befuddled, as the father slowly unfolds from his position against the refrigerator’s door.

“... I was... sharing...?”

Forest green brows furrow deeply as the daemon tries to unravel that statement. “... Yer fears?” That doesn’t really make sense; but, again: humans are weird.

Still, Chase quickly shakes his head, “No, no; my stomach.”

“Yer stomach?!?!?!” Anti glances down at aforementioned appendage (Apparently), “Ye can remove t’at?!” He seems oddly awed.

The father quickly shakes his head and his hands this time, “No, no! Not like...!”

Anti watches as the human flounders, feeling a bit of satisfaction bubble up as he’s been doing the exact same thing for hours now; sweet satisfying revenge! After a few minutes, however, Chase finally calms and sets his cool coffee down.

“I was... sharing my belly fat...”

Why are humans so weird? They’re like, the WEIRDEST creatures; Anti swears!

“‘Cause I can’t get rid o’ it, right? So...”

“Ye can’t?” the Glitch suddenly interrupts, eyes lighting up. He seems happy. “But ye want ta?” There’s a grin stretching his lips; it’s both cheerful and creepy. “Ah can help ye wit’ t’at!”

Chase holds his hands up, truly terrified, and Anti pulls back immediately.

They’re both confused. “... Ye don’ _t_ wan _t_ ye stomach gouged ou _t_ , do ye?”

“NO!!!”

The daemon watches the human flail fearfully and backs away a bit more. Unable to understand, still, what happened (How else does one share fat???), the tiny but very intimidating Glitch pouts, “T’en hwat DO ye wan _t_???”

The two stand in silence for several seconds.

Then, Chase seems to understand: “You’re... just tryin’ ta help, aren’t you?” There’s a hesitant smile on the father’s face as he relaxes away from the fridge, slowly closing the distance between him and what he thought was a monster.

Anti shrugs, crossing his arms; he doesn’t move away, allowing Chase closer, but he also doesn’t help bridge the gap between them; like **he** ’s the fearful one.

The younger Ego smiles. Seeming much more at ease, he rubs his neck and appears to be thinking deeply about something before finally speaking his mind: “I’m fat. Like, I have this pudge, here, and... I hate it. I want it gone. But Jackie... When I told him about this—‘cause he has all those muscles, right—he said that he’d love to have this ‘cause it’d make him less scary and more approachable... And just... hearing that kind of view point... made me feel a bit better, you know? An’ he was so tired, and I had nothin’ to do, so... I... Ha, I shared my belly fat. You’re right: that really doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

The little Evil shrugs again, “... Ye humans never really make sense...”

Chase laughs. He unthinkingly claps a hand on Anti’s shoulder and nods, agreeing with him and feeling more at ease with the Glitch than ever before. “Yea, we’re completely impossible.”

Anti snorts in one voice and giggles in another.

The father smiles. He studies the well put together image of Antisepticeye, glitches and all, and suddenly appreciates all the curves and thickness he finds.

Maybe he really is overthinking things.

Hoping this doesn’t lead to his belly or guts being spilled, Chase hugs the Evil: mentally studying the way his pudge molds to Anti’s lean but round figure, “Thanks.”

* * *

~Epilogue~

“… So… Do Ah get ta share yer fat, too?”

Surprised, Chase pauses while opening the microwave to retrieve his now reheated cup of coffee. Slowly, he turns to stare amusedly at the little daemon floating curiously behind him.

Anti only stares back, not really elaborating.

But the father’s pretty sure he gets what the other means: “Sure; just let me finish my coffee first.”


	3. (Self) Esteem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik gives some dieting advice... then he lays down the law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION: References to failed marriages, lost children, sex, and condoms because Chase IS a dad and Henrik, as a healthcare provider, would not shy away from simple facts.
> 
> Also, tiny bit of German flung in here; most of it is commonplace but: Müll = Rubbish/Garbage.

Henrik likes to do yearly checkups.

To him, this is an important part of managing everyone’s health.

Even if those everyones are Egos, Imaginary Friends, and Daemons.

This isn’t to say, of course, that **he** ever sees a doctor (He is one; so, there!).

* * *

Henrik has a lot of things to say about everyone in the Septic House.

Jameson, the youngest of them, is a wonderful chap: he’s sweet and funny, always moving about (So he’s always exercising!), and eats very healthily.

Marvin is a bit older than Henrik (But only by _a bit_!) and this sometimes shows: often, he’ll lord himself over any of the doctor Ego’s advice and grow weak because of it; there’ve been a number of cases where the magician’s passed out while doing some Hocus Pocus thing and woken up to Henrik’s “I told you so.”

Jackie’s very similar to this but so much worse: as the oldest Ego (Although, Anti’s much older.), the Septic Hero often fails to listen to anyone’s advice, including Henrik’s; so the doctor Ego frequently has to patch the elder up while Jackie pouts and hisses and complains and recounts his very dangerous day.

Anti, of course, is the absolute worst: not only is he the oldest, _for-realsies_ , but he’s also not at all human; while he looks very much like their creator, Seán, every similarity seen is only simulated—he’s just inhabiting a modified image—so Henrik doesn’t have much to work with in terms of keeping him healthy; and, as a result, the two of them just agreed to focus on his mental health/stability.

And then there’s Chase.

* * *

Henrik would be lying if he said he fully understood the fatherly Ego.

While it’s true that they both have failed marriages and untouchable kids, Henrik’s offspring are long dead (He couldn’t save them; he failed to save them; he FAILED—) and Chase’s are both very much alive (Thank everything.).

The only real commonality they have is in their ex-wives.

And, even then, Henrik’s resents ~~his failure~~ him while Chase’s...

(Well, they have hate sex quite often; enough that Chase always has condoms.)

* * *

Henrik’s well accustomed to giving advice; just as he is used to it being ignored.

The interesting thing about this is that he isn’t used to it being **asked** of him.

This is why, when Chase randomly pops that very surprising question, he stops.

Everything.

* * *

“Henrik... how would you suggest I loose some weight?”

Frosty blue eyes stare blankly at Chase as the father gazes hopefully back. Steady hands capable of performing surgeries that even Dr Strange’d be jealous of stumble as they falter in the middle of attaching a fresh tip to his otoscope.

He’s just that shocked.

“V... Vhat?” Henrik blinks as Chase shrinks back a little embarrassedly.

But he’s still hopeful... and he doesn’t LOOK sick...

“I-I wanna loose some weight, doc...”

* * *

Henrik has dealt with many overweight patients.

Most of them are genuine and he always takes the time to sit down with them and go over detailed diet plans made just for them that’ll help get them to a good, healthy, and SAFE weight so they can go on to live long, happy lives.

But, there are some patients that come to him with the **illusion** that they’re fat; and those are the hardest for Henrik to treat because they aren’t suffering from an ailment that’s remotely touchable: the actual illness is in their own heads.

And Henrik is not really good at treating that.

* * *

“But you are not at all over veight, mein freund,” Henrik counters gently.

He sets the otoscope and its tip down carefully before approaching his friend—and that is what they are, despite the doctor/patient vibe they have right now. Frosty blue irises lock with soft cloud blue ones as Henrik tries to reach Chase.

But the father isn’t having it, “Yea, I am, man.”

Perhaps thinking that his clothes are hiding the evidence he believes he has, Chase quickly hops off the doctor’s table Henrik has in his private infirmary and daringly lifts his loose t-shirt. This action bares his soft stomach—his evidence.

Henrik can only sigh, “Nein, vou are not.”

Gently, the elder Ego explains to Chase that his weight is well within the healthy spectrum for a man of his age—especially considering his stationary lifestyle. However, it’s clear that all his jargon about weight charts and BMIs are just going over Chase’s head: he’s not really listening because he’s just so **convinced**.

Well, Henrik’s convinced, too: “Und, if you are just asking for aest’etic concerns, shut up: you are han’some and kind; and anyvone viz eyes vould know you are a prize based on personality alone. Zis idea vou ‘ave about being too fat? Müll.”

* * *

~Epilogue~

Henrik makes a point, after that, to make some interesting things known.

First: the Body Mass Index does NOT take into account the fact that muscle ways much more than fat; as a result, technically, Jackie is obese.

Second: because Anti is really just a borrowed image, he weighs NOTHING.

Third: since Jameson is a man out of time, he’s actually not practicing a lot of modern day health habits; and while he’s very good at moving and grooving, he’s still keeping tempo with the previous century’s rhythms and is thus heavy.

Fourth: Marvin’s horrible habit of ignoring all of Henrik’s warnings and advice actually causes him to fluctuate between weights so much that it’s unhealthy; for the most part, though, he’s pretty underweight and really should eat more.

The bottom line, here, is that NONE of the other Septic’s are average weight; and, since he IS, technically, Chase is actually the healthiest of them all.

(And, no, Henrik’s not talking about his own weight: he is doctor; you shut up.)

* * *

~Epilogue 2~

“He-Henrik... Hey... um...”

Chase fidgets with his shirt’s hem as he stares embarrassedly at the ground. Barely a day has passed since he asked the doctor Ego to help him go on a diet and he’s done pretty much nothing but think about what the older man said—and it’s the stupidest thing his mind picked to zero in on.

“D-Do you really think I’m... hand... some...?”

The former father only smiles, “Very.”


	4. Shapewear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin bedazzles Chase with his collection of body fixings; but none of them are what the father was expecting.  
> He's not complaining, though; just awed and kinda humbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify (in case anyone doesn’t like this idea): My Marvin Crossdresses. He’s not doing that in this, but it is a general thing and it’s referenced in here; so if that’s not your thing... it’s probably best to not read this one.
> 
> Also, there's some very light references to... can someone tell me what Henrik/Marvin is called? Cuz I ship it and I think it should be MagicMedicine but, like, I really don’t know? Hyelp?

Marvin’s a sneaky bit.

True, Anti’s far sneakier; but when one factors in how Anti’s more than capable of being a disembodied conscience and Marvin’s stealthiest spell is invisibility, it’d be pretty unfair and shortsighted to say Marvin isn’t super craft about it.

As a result, no one is ever surprised when Marvin randomly pops into their life spouting this or that based on a conversation they had **thought** was _private_.

Chase is no exception to this (Especially not after everything he’s been through.).

* * *

“I heard you wanna loose some weight~”

There’s a purr somewhere in the back of Marvin’s throat that isn’t very human. It’s a bizarre fact that’s lead many of them question if he even is—including Anti—and while Marvin’s well aware of this, he doesn’t often address it.

He just prefers to say he really likes the catty aesthetic.

But he’s digressing. Chase doesn’t look like a deer in headlights, thankfully; but he’s still pretty confused (Not surprised.). The father briefly sips his cup of coffee before setting it down to look at his sporadic confidant better. Then, he nods, “Jus’ really hate this pudge, man...”

Marvin grins and nods back.

“Follow me~”

* * *

Marvin’s wardrobe is something he’s VERY proud of.

He’s got something in every fabric, style, and color—usually several times over! There’s some grunge and punk aesthetics for when he’s hanging out with Anti, some much more casual clothes for when he’s with Chase and his two children, some real tough bodysuits with gloves and boots for when he’s out with Jackie, some really nice tuxedos and dresses for his shows and dancing with Jameson, and even some pretty nurse outfits for teasing Mr. “Magic isn’t real” Henrik.

Pretty much every possibility is in his closet and he loves it.

And he’s happy to share it!

* * *

So, he shoves Chase straight into it.

The man stumbles a little bit and has to grab a shelf to stabilize himself; but, other than that, he’s fine and simply looks around the space as Marvin chatters. He’s very calm about everything and touches nothing while he patiently waits for the magician to get to the part where he can actually get rid of his _pudge_.

Marvin giggles.

Poor thing probably expects some magic to be done about this.

(Well, it’s a kind of magic, to be sure; but it’s not THAT kind of magic~)

* * *

Chase’s face when Marvin presents him with a corset is hilarious.

He’s so completely befuddled that he just holds it gingerly in his hands.

There’s a question in his eyes that he doesn’t seem brave enough to ask.

But Marvin’ll get to that.

* * *

“I also have tummy shapers~”

The magician dances a little in place to show off the shimmeriness of one while Chase just stares, both entranced and estranged: he’s in awe of Marvin’s stuff, for sure, but he doesn’t seem to be understanding what any of it is.

Or what any of it has to do with him.

Silly man.

* * *

“I... thought you were gonna cast a spell on me... or something...”

It’s taken almost an hour, but—finally—Chase pops the long awaited question. Marvin smiles while turning to him, setting down the large waistband he’d been showing off (It’s meant to act like a huge belt to your belly fat) at the same time. “Is that what ya want?”

The lack of purring means Marvin is serious and this causes Chase to shiver; “... I... I don’ know? I-I guess, yea...”

The catty magician nods amicably; but there’s something defiant in his eyes. “Alright. Well, there’s plenty a’ spells I could do that’ll change your body shape, get rid of that pudge you so hate; and there’s some potions I could make, too.”

“Really?” Chase asks, perking up.

Marvin nods, “Yes.” He clasps his hands behind his back and smiles bitingly, “There’s as much magic out there as there is in here because it’s all the same, Chase. These pieces of clothing do nothing more than create an **illusion** : exactly the same as any spell I cast or potion I use. They don’t _remove_ the fat; they just **hide** it. And they do that without me having to waste ingredients or expend energy I could be using to help Jackie or dance with Jameson.”

The magician softens as he pats the father’s arm and then rubs it, comfortingly, “I know it seems like magic tricks can be the answer to everything; but, sometimes, the real answer lies in self-acceptance and self-love.

“And, dude, there’s so much of you to love. You’re a kind of perfect no magic could ever hope to achieve. Please remember that Chase: you’re beautiful.”

* * *

~Epilogue~

“Th-then why da ya have these?”

Chase fidgets shyly with the weirdly shaped underwear Marvin had given him. It’s waist is abnormally high and stiff, which probably means it’ll hold a stomach; but, honestly, that just makes it seem like a really uncomfortable thing to wear.

Why would Marvin use this?

“It’s for when I crossdress.” Marvin peels off his shirt, uncaring if Chase watches, and slips on a corseted camisole with chest padding. He then adds a formfitting shirt clearly meant for female body-shapes and shows off his new foam breasts. “Again: I could magic these things, too; but it’s a lot of energy for me to spend—and then keep spending at an exponential rate the longer I have the spells on. Same for potions; except that’s in the frame of ingredients and money.”

Slowly, the father nods, “So... this is just economizing?”

Marvin grins and poses, “I'm cutting a fine figure~”


	5. Pudgy Buddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jameson is a crafty one under all that innocence. He’s also Chase’s new best friend.

Jameson, as the youngest, is often overlooked.

Most people, even within the household, think that he’s too sweet and innocent to keep up with all the darkness that traverses the three story building.

They’re wrong.

As someone who’s not only survived the Great War and the Great Depression, but also wields the capability to go back to both and any other Dark Age, Jameson might actually be the best at understanding the abyss.

* * *

This is probably why he noticed Chase’s issue long before anyone else did.

The father didn’t have to tell him, by accident or design, how he hated his pudge. He didn’t have to fess up after staring too long or being cornered in the kitchen. And he definitely didn’t have to ask for advice or allow it to be bestowed to him.

No.

All Chase had to do was frown down.

* * *

Many people assume Jameson’s silence is partly due to his stupidity.

None of the Septic’s make this mistake, thankfully; but other people, even Egos, do. They think that, just because he doesn’t sign or write anything, he’s lost or unable to keep up; but this isn’t true: he’s just allowing everyone else to talk.

Out of respect, mostly.

It isn’t even because he’s shy or self-conscious. He grew out of that years ago. Around the time he realized he **loves** to make people laugh.

Around the time he realized he loves **listening** to people.

It doesn’t really matter what their voices are saying, either.

* * *

This is probably why their voices don’t really have to say anything.

As someone who’s so good at listening, Jameson has learned to hear silence.

The things you don’t say are just as important as what you **do**.

Perhaps even more so.

* * *

So, when Jameson catches Chase standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, a spoon of cake, and a dark smile edging on the precipice of hate and acceptance, he finally makes his own move.

He takes his own spoonful of cake, eats it, and undoes the button on his vest.

He allows the article of clothing to flare open, releasing his own pudgy belly—much to the surprise of one Chase Brody—and eats another spoonful of cake.

He ignores the spongy crumbs that nestle into his recently styled mustache to appreciate the smile that slowly curves Chase’s lips; it’s a little less lonely and a little more loving—of himself, the world, and maybe even just Jameson, too.

**Author's Note:**

> O... my JIVE. This was... incredible. I feel like a weight's gone off me; no lie. I've been meaning to write this thing for MONTHS, All, and to finally have it DONE... Q~Q I'm so proud.  
> I'm also really happy? For Chase, I mean. Just... writing this and then reading through it (editing) ... it's like watching Chase grow into himself, you know? And I love that.  
> I love this.  
> I hope you All got some enjoyment out of it.  
> And if any of the messages in this piece (or even a part of it) hit home for you, please remember that everything the other Septic's said to cheer up Chase applies to you too. =)  
> All my love.
> 
> Happy birthday, Brodaddy.


End file.
